


The Pretty Gene

by Magdela



Category: yandere - Fandom
Genre: /Reader, Angst and Humor, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Multi, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdela/pseuds/Magdela
Summary: The Pretty Gene (or extraordinary pheromonal attraction) is the constant production and output of releaser pheromones. It creates the intense physical attractiveness of its carrier and is responsible for creating good chemistry between couples, in small doses.  The females in your family have never had good relationships, as all were carriers of The Pretty Gene. Despite such, they were all successful at attracting mates of the most fatal affection. Psycho, sadists, possessive jerks, and obsessive stalkers alike was the curse of your family. In 2019, you are the only female heir to this curse, but your own story (and the history of your unfortunate family) has yet to begin.





	1. Just Another Day

The wavering heat of the cardboard cup seeped into the skin of your fingers and pleasantly smoothed the aches in your clicking joints. You flexed them out around the cup before switching your grip of the drink into one hand. Your other reached up to the plastic cap and popped the hot top off. Steam floated up from the dark drink while the rich scent of coffee tickled your nose. You breathed it in, but paused to bring your fingers to the rim. Delicately painted nails trailed on the inside before dipping into the liquid. Your eyes moved from the drink to the side of the cafe. You set your sight on the busy barestia. Her blonde locks were high fixed in a short ponytail and her attention was set fully on the drink before her. She did not look at you even as she took your payment and gave you your drink. Still, you studied her countenance quietly while also noting her partner. He was younger male with dark, messy locks but acne lining his soft jaw and down his neck. The black apron with the encircled, white coffee bean and curving tea leaf (the same logo on the side of your drink, hung off his skinny body, by strained at the muscles on his shoulders and arms. It tighter on the female from her bust to her stomach. Neither noticed your look. 

Glancing back down, you pulled your finger out of the liquid with the same lime-green polish. Brushing the finger off on your lap were your grey hoodie met washed out jeans, you brought the drink up to your lips. The sweet, bitterness coursed across your body while your body practically absorbed the caffeine right off your tongue. Sighing after that first sip, you leaned back, brought your cup to your chest as the bottoms of your tennis shoes pressed against the leg of the small table before you. You had put yourself near the back of the cafe with no seats or tables directly besides yourself, but with the door to your right. Out it was a small patio with a minor gate, but an open exit to the road. There was a small corner space past the door where a couple lounge chairs and side tables were placed. Only a couple of people sat there. An older man with little hair on the top of his head but a large gut poking out of his white dress-shirt, and a young teenager with too pink of hair and too invested in her phone.

The male had left his coffee besides him, in a cup like your own, and was typing quickly on the slim laptop planted on top of his black pants. A navy messenger sat on the floor by the chair, but sagged the opposite way without the laptop. It didn’t look like the electronic would be returned anytime soon, as the older man was glaring down at the screen with his pale cheeks flushing and sweat dripping down his brows. The girl on the other hand was simply leaning back into her seat, with her legs, covered just by ripped, black shorts and ending with over-sized, doc-martin boots, where thrown over the furniture. Her small back was pressed against the arm of the chair and uncomfortably pressed against by the various studs of her denim vest. Her rigged fingers tapped quickly on her device while her painted lips idly opened for the white straw of her iced drink. You spotted the whipped cream inside the large drink, and also how the straw hit the hoop hanging from her nose before making it inside her mouth. Likewise, the pink bob was tangled on either side of her head, lacing with the series of piercings across her earlobe. Your eyes lowered from herself to her side. An overfilled backpack was dropped at the side of the chair. It was old and torn but seemed to be kept together by layers of skull-bone duck-tape, more expensive than the bag, and edgy pins. You saw one large, black pin, which seemed to be the prize among the political plastics, commenting, “Fork Society,” with the utensil piercing through a deflating house. 

Rolling your eyes, you looked back towards the front of the shop. The glass door was positioned close to the middle of the vertical building with racks of overpriced goods from mugs to tiny cookies and other useless items. Directly across from the door was the counter. It fit the two workers there, despite the semi long line of orders. Despite its popularity, there weren’t that many tables. A couple sat before you, each with equal or little distance between one’s leaning chair and another slouch. Maybe because of this poor design many didn’t sit down, but mostly people came into the shop only to leave. 

You spotted a college student, obvious by her lack of proper clothing (over-sized, university sweatshirt, worn, athletic shoes, and a scrunchy in her unkempt, red curls) and sleep. She sat near the door with her feet pulled up, body near collapsed over the table, and with red eyes from staring at her computer screen. Another, better kept, businessman sat after her in the next table over. He was younger than the first with attractive, African features with both his head and jaw clearly shaved. His own, white shirt was freshly ironed and the red tie around his neck perfectly straight. You nodded his case resting straight against the window wall of the cafe, and his pulled out papers at even length from his computer and his coffee from the computer on the opposite side. A possible control freak, you hummed taking another sip. However, your eyes peered over the rim of coffee to stare at the gold ring upon his left hand. You relaxed into your chair a bit more at that. 

Your head pressed back into the wooden chair. Your hood pulled lightly from your face, while your hair tucked beneath pressed into the back of your neck from its little ball. A few strands peeked out from the border, laying lightly around your face as you stared sideways. Like the shop, the parking lot was active in only its departures but without many parked. You assumed that the cars that remained since your arrival belong to the employees here and at the cell repair shop across the street. It left the number low. Your head tilted slightly to allow you to see past your hood to view the sky. The sun was slowly dimming while street lights began to glow above the cement sidewalk. You leaned your head leaned against the cooling glass before a sudden vibration came from your pocket. 

Looking down, you slipped your hand into your jacket pocket. Smooth metal glided against your fingers as you pulled your phone out. It was covered by a simply black case and lit up when your nail pressed into a button on its side. A blurred image of your form leaning against a taller male was plastered across your home screen while a text message was displayed before it. 

J.A.H Today 7:43  
“Yo, you still alive?” 

Your lips quirked as you set your coffee down on the table to place both hands on the phone.  
“Well enough to land hits on you,” you replied back as you opened up the messenger.  
You saw a loading sign come up from the other side and you let your legs stretch across the table. 

J.A.H Today 7:44  
“Sure. Tomorrow. I’ll see you at the gym.” 

Your lip twitched a little down as you replied back, “Yeah, maybe.” Your nail pressed against the side of the phone as you pressed it off and pocketed it, ignoring the buzz that came after. Your hand reached out for the coffee, before you heard a voice come from the front of your table. “I hope that’s not a boyfriend,” a masculine voice commented. 

Looking up, your expression fell. He was a blonde with neatly cut hair styled behind his ears and not below them. His eyes were a pretty blue that sat within tanned skin and nice facial features. He was leaning against your table with a red, number 6 jersey across his wide chest while a plaid shirt hung off his shoulders. A watch with a leather band was wrapped around his planted wrist. You glanced to your coffee near his hand before leaning back. “Basketball?” you asked while glancing back at his jersey. 

He glanced down at himself before smiling up at you confidently, “Yeah I play for Pikes.” When you gave no reaction, he continued. “The university. Are you a fan?” 

You shook your head, expression dull, “No, I don’t like sports.” 

His head tilted with that same smile, “Not athletic?” 

Your eyes narrowed a little, “I don’t like sweating in a room full of guys,” you empathized the last. 

Chuckling, he leaned back. “It’s not something to be embarrassed about; it’s just your body.” 

“Yeah, my body,” your eyes slid from the male to the table. His other hand, hanging from his pocket. 

“Well, I’m Daniel, and you are?” he asked while leaning over your table. “Not interested,” you shot back while still not looking at his eyes. You, however, caught his change in his expression. “Rude, much,” Daniel chuckled lowly while leaning back, “you can at least give a guy a chance.” 

Your own expression soured as you glared up at him, “Actually, no, I can’t.”

That dying smile turned into a sneer and anger poured across his narrowing eyes. He pushed off your table, “Fine,” he spat back at you, before turning away from your table. “B*tch,” you heard him mutter, prompting an eye roll from yourself. Your head turned back to the window, watching the sun set over the city and her many roads. As the sky grew dark, metal of speeding cars, stone of curving streets, and high glass of successful buildings glowed in their modern glories. 

The majority, if not all, of the occupants at this point. The street was pitch black with its few radiating street lights. They were not bright, yellow balls blaring against the crawling shadows. Even the shop was growing dark. The lights over the patio and corner had been shut off, leaving your form in semi darkness. The only light on was that of which was over the door and above the baristas.The female was leaning over the counter, resting her head over her arms while the young male tugging some trash out from below the metal sink back. Yawning, you glanced back through the cafe and frowned slightly. 

After a moment, you pressed up from your chair and reached to your side. You picked up your own bag, a small, cross body-sack purse, and threw it over your shoulder. You grabbed your luke-warm coffee and crossed your table. Giving an over the shoulder wave to the unresponsive barista, you pushed past the black-metal and glass door and walked down the sidewalk. You crossed over the small grass section and around the building’s side before heading down a bare street. Little light reached the asphalt below you. Likewise, the only businesses besides the coffee shop behind you was a gas station a cross and a jump away and a closed, auto shop before you. You bent around the back parking lot of the shop as your hand reached into your pocket. Halfway pulling your phone out, you pulled up a contact and sent a quick message through, “Leaving C.S.”

You pressed the phone back into your pocket before reaching up to the strap around your shoulder. It was pressing a little to heavily against the side of your neck and its weight was slapping against your thigh. Your body curved around the side of the auto shop and you glanced to the corner of its roof. Your hand slipped and pulled on your hood. As your body crossed that barrier, a new tug on the back of your hood.

Your form was abruptly pulled back as an arm latched across your middle. The grip as bruising tight and took the air from your lungs. Another restriction came as around arm hooked around your throat. Arms shooting up, your nails drew into the man’s arm while your torso thrashed below. You felt his head turn away from your failing arms, careful about receiving blows, while his mouth moved towards your ear. “You like flirting with other men,” his voice hissed out into your ear. Your eyes strained over, trying to catch an image of his face despite the grip around your throat. Dark hairs hung around his face but so did the fat of his cheeks. “It’s okay,” he commented while his arm grew tighter around your throat. You slapped against his arm, legs flying back to kick into his shin. “Everything’s going to be okay, I’ll make it okay,” his tone was rising in pitch as he began to drag your body to the side. 

Your heels were skidding on the asphalt while your torso dipped down on his thin frame. His headlock was growing looser, however, as your chin was hooked over and head dipping back. You planted your heel after a minute, you pressed your body up and released his arm with one hand. It never had much of a grip, as your full coffee cup was still in it. Throwing it over your shoulder, you shoved the cup into his face, namely his eyes. The sticky liquid soaked the side of the hoodie, but you couldn’t care less as you dove forward. The back of your hoodie was grabbed again, yanking your head back. 

“I really hate it when people do that!” you shouted flipping your torso around. Balancing low, you planted a hand on the asphalt before throwing up a leg up to kick him in his soft gut. The man stumbled back, allowing you to push yourself back up on your feet and reach your bag. Falling on his back, the male looked up to see your movements. Growling with eyes as feral as a beast he pressed himself up and dove towards you. Hands still stuck in your bag, his body collided with yours. Your back found the back of a building and your head stuck stone. A cry slipped from your lips but was soon grumbled as a hair of strong hands wrapped around your throat. The pressure immediately cut out your air way and brought fire up your body. You kicked back against him, but his body was pushing yours into the wall, giving you little option to lift your torso up minor yet move. 

Your head was beginning to ache and eyes sting as your stared forward. His face was blurred in the shadows, but you saw it well enough. Brown eyes were wide with pupil like pin points. His skin darkened in the shadows and darker in its marks. It was his leer that caught you. It tore it across his face, causing his cheeks to twitch and lips to stretch to a pale pink with teeth clenched between: insane. Your legs were stilling beneath you, growing stiff and heavy. Noticing such, he leaned back a little. It was then your eyes narrowed. 

Your hand torn from your bag and swung to his head. The blow connected and caused his body to tumble back. His hand, that was around your throat, reached up to his head. He stared with wide eyes and a fallen face at the red painting his palm. It dripped down his shoulder and swamped in his hair. “You hurt me,” he hissed out through his teeth. 

You sneered and cocked the weapon at your side, “Yeah, I’m not the same as your pictures.”

Shaking, he pushed himself up before lunging himself up at you. An inhuman scream reached past his lips as he swung his fists towards you. Spit was falling from his lips while the blood leaked down his face. You moved back from his frantic form, moving you back to the wall. You dodged under his flying arm and lunged towards the open area behind him. His fists came down on the small of your back, causing you to fall to knee. His foot was sent next, sending you to your stomach, before the heavy weight lifted. Your torso twisted to see him pick up his knee, only to ram it down. Lifting your arms out behind you, you pointed your glock between your shaking hands and fired. The sound gripped through the night before all grew silent. 

Blood leaked from the male’s lips as he stumbled back. The foot meant to land upon you, fell back behind him, before he took another step. His body tripped down, causing him to tumble and strike his head on the ground. His shaking hands panned his stomach, patting the blood pouring from his gut. His mouth opened and opened while puddles of blood spilled from either side. A hand rose from his side, painted completely red, and reached for you. Nose cringing, you turned around from him, and reached into your pocket. Your armed arm hung low at your hip while you brought your already ringing phone to your lips. You tilted you head towards the device as the male gurgled behind you. 

“Dad? I need a favor.”


	2. How to Enjoy Midnight (Barely Edited)

The slam of the door echoed in the air. The night had grown darker, leaving your body hidden within the scene. That was also a choice you took upon yourself, as your back was pressed against the auto shop's brick wall and your hoodie was tugged far overhead. No light reached you or the body close by. That was until this car showed up. Those blaring, white head lights burned through the scene while its rays lurked close to your form. However, that glare, along with the low humming of the car’s engine, was shut off as soon as the vehicle came to a stop. The scene was plunged back into darkness but it was not entirely soundless. You had long since been listening to the nervous chirp of city insects, the passing of cars on the roads behind, and the sudden, distance voice. Each had caused you to tense and freeze against the rough, brick wall. The slam of the car’s door was no different. You could see his body curve in the low tones of night. He had stepped out of the car soon after the engine had clicked off. That sound was the indication for your eyes to glance up. 

Dark boots clicked against the asphalt and crushed the few pieces of gravel. They tapped carefully around the body in a semi-circle before pausing before you. The blue, work pants had been rolled up at the ankle but fit rather well up the long length of his legs. Likewise, the matching, but creased, work shirt was untucked at his buckle but hugged the span of his chest and crossed arms. You could just see the faint hairs lining his tanned arms as well as the oversized, metal watch he kept on his nondominant wrist. On that same side, you saw the bulge below the tail of his shirt. It shared the distinct square-like form that descended at a broad angle and required a thick belt at his hips. Yet, no badge could be seen here. 

You shrugged on the stone, your own crossed arms falling to your sides, as you stepped closer to the male. His eyes, a cold eye blue you couldn’t see now but knew, did not move to you but gather glared at the corpse. His jaw was tight at its sharp angles, causing his aged face to grow even more stressed but mostly frightening. Those eyes had shifted from a faint hint of blue to a steeled gray. You knew his pupils were narrowed to points while his heart rate was picking up from just looking at the other. Even the dark circles and sinking lines framing those eyes couldn’t ease the intensity of that look. You studied him a bit closer after noticing that shift. 

His arms remained crossed on his chest, but his form was still stiff and hands close to that weapon. You did not step closer but called out softly, “Dad?” 

Those eyes moved to you after a moment. Dark, thinning hair framed around his face, having become messy at the end of the day, now night. You could also see some hairs poking out in patches on his jaw and cheeks; it was all sparse and gray but still present. The collar of his shirt was turned and some of the buttons were undone. The surest attribute of his appearance was tight grip of his belt around his hips. You paused under his gaze, leaving you no closer to him then you were to the body. 

His eyes moved from your form, having already scanned you over in a gut-clenching second, to your attacker. His expression shifted again, those eyes deepened to a cold silver while his angled jaw locked. “This it?” he asked sharply without sending you another look. 

Stiffly, you nodded, arms crossing over your torso. “Yes,” you told while staring down at the man. 

When he didn’t reply to you (and kept staring at the body) your eyes turned from him. You glanced over to the parked car. Even in the shadows you still could see its make. It was between new and old. New in the sense that it didn’t have many issues and was skilled in the basic useless of recent technology, and old as it wasn’t as well built as other vehicles. The driver’s door was, naturally, positioned opposite from you. The tires were angled straight and towards the end of the alleyway. However, the keys were hanging on a loop in his pocketed hand. 

“Is this the thing that’s been bothering you?” your father’s voice cut through. 

Your head rolled back over him and you found his gaze on you. Leaning back on your heels, you answered calmly: “I don’t think so. He was a young bartender for the Commit coffee shop. He seems more like a teenager or college freshman: impatient, impulsive,” your eyes fell to the body. “He probably didn’t even know what he was doing.” 

“It knew well enough to threaten you,” your father scoffed as his boot struck the side of the boy’s leg. The motion shook the rest of the limb, but the rest was still to the abuse. He squatted down and reached into the pocket of the body’s pant pocket. His movements remained far and wide, allowing him access without staining his clothing with the fallen red. After a quick moment, his hand returned with a square piece of fabric in his grip. It held a goofy and poor printed image of some alien and astronaut on the front: a wallet. He flipped the cheap item open, glancing over the couple bills and various coins stuffed into its thin center. His gaze quickly moved to the slots of the wallet. A couple of cards were kept there: a movie pass, a faded gift card, a space-themed credit card, and a thin piece of plastic with an awful photo in grey. He focused on the last two, picking them out before holding them out between two fingers. Your eyes skimmed over the last, a driver’s license. Contrary to others, the young male was smiling. It was so wide in the photo that you could see the twists in some of his teeth and dimples in his cheeks. Your eyes fell before freezing on the other, sternly printed data. He wasn’t even eighteen. 

Sighing, your father pocketed the two items before slipping the wallet into the opposite pocket of his pants. He stood back up with the moment and looked towards you with drooping and darkening eyes. “This won’t be difficult to deal with. The mechanic here has an employ on probation. His face will be on the news either tomorrow or the next day.” 

You swallowed thickly but nodded a moment after. “I need to get to my apartment.” Your voice was low with the comment, calm, but not rising past a minor pitch. You could question if your father could even hear you, as he gave no response, but you knew well that he did. Slowly, you stepped past his body, the gravel accenting your steps before your form paused. It was not by your own will, however, but rather because of the grip on your right wrist. You froze with the touch, knowing not to tug. You glanced over your shoulder to your father. 

His eyes are on your form as his hand slowly tightened. “Dad,” you spoke softly and pulled on your arm. His fingers turned and tightened as he slowly you closer to himself. Your knees bent and torso bent back. “Dad!” you shouted at him, your arm yanking back. You could see the passenger’s side door, close and with a lock on the top. The truck was farther, but it was curved in the car and was padded. The keys for both were in his hand. 

Your body continued to pull from him, keeping that distance before he would pause. The tight grip on your arm began to unravel and fall. You watched it end with his arm falling heavy to his side. His head tilted down, staring at the cement. “You look so much like your mother,” he muttered lowly. 

You stepped from him and towards the car. His hand jerked at his side, causing you to step back, but instead of a reach, the car keys were sent flying towards you. You caught the toss with both hands. The various keys, small and large, pressed into your cupped hand and bit with a familiar chill. “Get out of here. I’ll take care of it,” he told as his back turned from you. 

Fixing your grip on one key, the largest with a black, plastic guard, you quickly stepped around the car and towards the driver’s side. The door was swung open and your body threw it. You heard the door slam shut, just as quick and sure as before the key was plunged into the ignition. Those lights blared down the alleyway and the dead engine hummed. Your hands quickly found their place on the leather-wrapped steering wheel and your foot to the gas pedal. Faster than you should, you drove down the dark street. Glancing up, you saw the fading image of father and form in the rear-view mirror. You wouldn't see them long, as you neared the end of the alley, they both were dressed in the same darkness. 

You closed your door as soon as it opened. 

The walls of your apartment were so thin that the only difference between the yelling in the hall, and what leaked into your room, was the lack of clarity on what swears they would throw next. Sighing, your body turned and turned the main lock on the door handle, the second above, and crossed the chain at the top. Your backpack tumbled off your arm to the floor, a small thud compared to the masculine shouts. Your form bent over, knee bent, as you crossed one leg over the other and tugged off a shoe. Again, the thud of those two tennies and your softer, sock-cladded steps, were lighter than the feminine shrieks. 

You knew the young couple one up and over right from yourself. They had moved in shortly after yourself, and you had the grand meeting with them of them sucking each other’s faces off in their open doorway while you were searching for the laundry room. Your sweaters and socks remained dirty that day. As with most, the couple’s relationship quickly went to hell after moving in together. Short arguments, to quick affairs, and now full-out abuse; just as it was meant. 

Stretching your arms overhead, you walked over to your corner of the kitchen. It was right off from the door with the shortest of walls between the too. Your fridge was the closest to the turn, while the oven, dressed with a rusted, metal kettle and dirty pan, came second. There were some wooden cabinets positioned above both while the center ended with a small corner top. The most decorative piece on your counter was your clay, flower vase shoved full with unmatching spoons and duck-taped microwave. 

You leaned on a small table in the kitchen. It simple and semi-round with simple, stand legs below and a likewise chair positioned at the end. Your arms crossed on its plastic top, leaning over a pad. Your eyes skimmed down the yellowed paper. On each black line were names of buildings written with perfectly printed handwriting. Each line was measured and exact, leaving the writing without personality but, mostly, without identity. Dale’s, Crinsom Flowers, Jerry’s Automatics, Big Six Fit, Comit’s; the names continued on down the pages. However, those from the top, down, had a neat, cross through them. You lifted a pen from the side of the notebook, its body wrapped with a strip of gray, duck-tape, and drew one more black line through Comit’s. Tossing the pen back down, you sighed once more and stretched up from your lean. 

Your “living” room stretched out from the end of your table. Soft, and stained, carpet suddenly merged from faded wood before ending with something covered. The main floor was covered by a separate carpet, something rich and red but had a small glossy cover to it, before a smaller table was placed at the center. The little wooden thing was most likely for a plate, mug, or single book, but not much else. It was positioned back from the couch. That had a leather surface but such was hard to spot beneath the messy, quilted comforter and tilted pillow. The furniture pressed right against the back wall and pushed close to the single window. Although, there was a gap between the couch’s arm, and the near falling pillow, to that separate wall and window. Between the two, and what took up a bit more of the room, was a medium-sized, tall and long, chest. A simple dresser for a simple wardrobe. It sat directly between the window, with the drawn drapes just brushing above it. Before the table, couch, and at the center of the room was a small, box TV. It sat on top of a black, solid surface, presumably a suitcase, and was currently turned off. Its glossy, dark front reflected back the image of the low lit room with strange borders but with the same barrenness. There were no sounds in your apartment itself, outside of your breathing. 

Reaching forward, you picked up the plastic (and duck-taped) remote from the table and clicked on the T.V on. The local news station, equipped with the wide-eyed, large lashed, and blonde anchor, immediately popped on. Headlines circled below her bust, but you did not stop to read (stare). Rather, you let the noise run and stepped down the hall. Hopefully, the sound would alert the party upstairs of a different audience. Your bathroom was only a couple of steps from the main room. The main walls cornered to create small angles before the narrower ones begun and quickly ended at a single door. You pulled it open and stepped forward in the tile room. The surface below brought an automatic chill to the bottoms of your feet and then up your side. But, then again, bathrooms were always unnerving. 

The room shut closed behind you, the pad-lock chain you had roughly nailed in was left hanging down. You hadn’t decorated much else in the room. A small vanity was placed directly in front of the door. It held a porcelain sink at the center, a cup filled with toothbrushes on the side, and a couple, wooden drawers down its front. A round, frameless mirror was positioned above it, and a waste bin was to the left-most corner. The toilet followed to the right, another bin placed beside it before the shower followed. The shower had a white, tub cradle the floor and a plastic shower curtain down its front. The curtain was colorless and would barely blur your form, but the same was for what sat outside it. From the slightly visible corner of the tub, you could see your shampoo and conditioner sitting on the outside corner, but in the innermost corner was a heavy-duty flashlight. 

You pulled your hoodie overhead and tossed it down. Relief flooded through your form stripping that tattered and dirty thing off. Your hands descended down, unbuckled and yanked your jeans off, before your socks followed. You moved last for your underwear, first the bra before pausing with the panties. All joined the floor, close to where your discarded towel laid, and then you walked over to the shower. Turning the chilled, metal handle brought a chill down your body, something more powerful now, before it squeaked and rushed water through. The water started off cold and then into a warm downpour from above. You felt it glide down your body, as you stepped it, but it also brought another sensation. Distinct stings began to bite across your limbs and back. Somewhere minor while others quickly turned to a throbbing ache. You did not flinch away from the water but ducked your head down into its rays. The pain would soon equalize to something water across you. You kept your head down in the water, however, and felt the streams glide across your cheeks and on your lips. 

Tilting your head down, you watched your locks darken and curtain around your form. The water quickly poured through them, stretching them to their utmost length. They stopped you from seeing from your right to your left, in this case, the curtain and the tilted, shower wall, but made the present so clear. You were forced to stare down at yourself, to the crossing of your ribs, swell of your breast, the dip of your stomach, and to your hips, and below. Bare and exposed, you stared at the flesh there. Your extended limbs, your shoulders and some of your legs, were quickly growing cold, but your chest grew hot. Down and across you were many marks. Bruises, scratches, lines, burns, and other marks lined your flesh. They ranged in age and apartness, but it was all the same. Your eyes pressed closed from the macabre sight while your nails drew into your scabbed hands. What was so good about this useless flesh for attention to be brought to it? 

You let the water run over you for a while, an action you would have to counter in your bills before your head rose again. You brushed the tangled locks out of your face before reaching over to the side of the shower and grabbed a bar of soap. In was in action your mind cleared and chest cooled to an ache. 

A more welcoming sensation than water was the return of clothing to your form. Comfy sweats clung to your slightly wet legs while a warm t-shirt hung widely over your relaxed chest. It was after dressing that you allowed yourself to fall back onto the couch, that padded comforter quickly consuming your form. Smiling lightly, you reached forward from your freshly made nest and picked up your phone from the mini-table. You had picked it out of your bag after your shower was over and brought it along with you. 

The blue light was a sudden blare to your eyes and bright in the darkroom. Frowning, you quickly typed your passcode in and swiped the brightness down. As your eyes adjusted, your lips turned at the sight of your home screen. A man and a woman stood side-by-side in the cropped image. Even in the foreign setting, you could immediately recognize your father and mother. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders while her face was (cutely) pressed to the side of his chest. His other arm was held out, taking the close photo at a horrible angle. Their faces were at the highest peak of the photo while a colorful flower bed was directly below and in the background. Both of their faces were so much younger compared to then and this year. 

Your thumb tapped on the bottom of the screen, opening a green-colored app. A list of messages lined down the page, with abbreviated names or unknown numbers, but you opened the one at the top. A new one was shown in the shared room. 

J.A.H Yesterday 9:58  
“Cool.”  
“Hey, message me when you get home.” 

Yesterday 10:45  
“You home yet?” 

Yesterday 11:57  
“Hey, text me.” 

Sighing, you sunk back into the couch as your thumbs typed. 

“Hey, I’m home, don’t panic.” 

His response came moments later, 

Today 12:25  
“Oh shut up! Are you okay?” 

Your lips turned as your typed back.  
“Yeah, just got a little messy coming home, had to shower.” 

Today 12:25  
“.....”  
“Okay, you settled down now?” 

Your head nodded before responding.  
“Yeah, on bed.” 

Today 12:25  
“Kay.”  
“...” 

Today 12:26  
“I need to sleep. You do too.” 

Sighing again, you texted a “Yeah….but...” back. 

Today 12:27  
“Just get some sleep. It’s better than what I could say.” 

“Not true,” you whispered allowed as your head hit the back of the couch. You let the phone rest in your lap for a moment, its blue blare glowing up, before holding it back.  
“Sure.” You texted back before responding with quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You saw a glimpse of his last message, “..Today. Good morning,” before you tossed the phone back onto the table. It lit up again with another one of his messages, but you didn’t bother reading it. Rather, you pulled your body beneath the comforter and tugged that wonderful piece of cloth over the majority of your body. It curved over the edge of your head, more as you turned on your pillow to face the pillows of the couch. You stared at the dark leather for a moment, before pressing your face down into the blanket. Its material was always soft on your face, warm around you, and smelled faintly of too-sweet flowers. It’s what you got for buying cheap, fabric softener, but for the moment it was comfortable. Your eyes naturally kept close soon after, and your body relaxed quickly. You sighed against your pillow as your mind drifted off. In was in this state, and at this minute, that your phone vibrated behind your back. 

Its front flashed blue in the darkness while the screen read the time in large, white numbers and showed a bubble of the notification, all over the blurred image of your home screen. 

12:59  
Unknown Number

**Author's Note:**

> Bodies: 1  
Caffeinated Stalker


End file.
